Reed Anthony, Cowman eBook

welfare until the second morning, when Loving’s
horse came into camp, whinnying for his mates.
There were blood-stains on the saddle, and the story
of a man who was cautious for others and careless
of himself was easily understood. Conjecture
was rife. The presence of the horse admitted of
several interpretations. An Indian ambush was
the most probable, and a number of men were detailed
to ferret out the mystery. We were then seventy
miles below Sumner, and with orders to return to the
herd at night six of us immediately started.
The searching party was divided into squads, one on
either side of the Pecos River, but no results were
obtained from the first day’s hunt. The
herd had moved up fifteen miles during the day, and
the next morning the search was resumed, the work
beginning where it had ceased the evening before.
Late that afternoon and from the east bank, as Goodnight
and I were scanning the opposite side of the river,
a lone man, almost naked, emerged from a cave across
the channel and above us. Had it not been for
his missing arm it is doubtful if we should have recognized
him, for he seemed demented. We rode opposite
and hailed, when he skulked back into his refuge;
but we were satisfied that it was Wilson. The
other searchers were signaled to, and finding an entrance
into the river, we swam it and rode up to the cave.
A shout of welcome greeted us, and the next instant
Wilson staggered out of the cavern, his eyes filled
with tears.

He was in a horrible physical condition, and bewildered.
We were an hour getting his story. They had been
ambushed by Indians and ran for the brakes of the
river, but were compelled to abandon their horses,
one of which was captured, the other escaping.
Loving was wounded twice, in the wrist and the side,
but from the cover gained they had stood off the savages
until darkness fell. During the night Loving,
unable to walk, believed that he was going to die,
and begged Wilson to make his escape, and if possible
return to the herd. After making his employer
as comfortable as possible, Wilson buried his own rifle,
pistols, and knife, and started on his return to the
herd. Being one-armed, he had discarded his boots
and nearly all his clothing to assist him in swimming
the river, which he had done any number of times,
traveling by night and hiding during the day.
When found in the cave, his feet were badly swollen,
compelling him to travel in the river-bed to protect
them from sandburs and thorns. He was taken up
behind one of the boys on a horse, and we returned
to camp.

Wilson firmly believed that Loving was dead, and described
the scene of the fight so clearly that any one familiar
with the river would have no difficulty in locating
the exact spot. But the next morning as we were
nearing the place we met an ambulance in the road,
the driver of which reported that Loving had been
brought into Sumner by a freight outfit. On receipt
of this information Goodnight hurried on to the post,